


Once More, With Feeling

by Sourcherrymagiks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hellmouth (BtVS), Idiots in Love, M/M, Sunnydale (BtVS), a bit of angst, but singing, mid wayward son, singing in public, working through trauma by singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourcherrymagiks/pseuds/Sourcherrymagiks
Summary: What if Blue gave our gang two options. Vegas or Sunnydale?What happens when two Chosen Ones meet up on a Hellmouth?What if everyone just..........bursts into song?A gift for AmphipodGirl as part of the Carry On Exchange
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 25
Kudos: 19





	1. Going Through The Motions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ampithoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ampithoe/gifts).



**Simon**

I had to get some space for a minute. Just breathe a bit. Everything was starting to close right in on me.

Penny can going on about health and safety around a hellmouth as much as she likes (and fuck me did she like, even Shepherd looked bored) but we all knew she was going to let me go out. I was even annoying myself with the fidgeting and the pacing.

It was a stupid objection anyway. Why pretend I didn’t spend years attracting evil? I’d be surprised if the hellmouth has anything on seventh year at Watford. I think I died or near as dammit four times that year. The nurse resigned after sewing my arm back on for the third time, said that it made her magic twitchy. That might have been one of the curses rubbing off on her though. Who can say? 

Recently the only thing that gets through is when things want me dead. At least then I wake up a bit. 

Only a bit though. Whatever breaks through disappears just as quickly. 

I was brave tonight, with Baz, in the truck, but it’s gone now. As soon as we arrived here I was back to awkward stupid fumbling. Hurting him by accident. Backing off and stepping forward all wrong. 

I can’t sit around a motel room breaking his heart when I could be out doing something. For the first time since we got to America it feels like we have a bit of a plan. 

Even if that plan is asking for help. 

We need it. 

Baz and Penny are exhausted. I’m all but useless. Ags is in danger. This is the best option. 

It’s also the option that involves not taking my boyfriend into a vampire town. Well not a town where vampires are in charge anyway. I imagine there must be a fair few vampires here to justify a full time vampire slayer. 

I'm trying not to think too hard about how a Chosen One might react to another Chosen One turfing up causing trouble (Ex Chosen One. I’m nothing now). Dragging them into unrelated bullshit. What would I have done back when I was someone who people might have asked for help? Stop. Stop it. 

Anyway Sunnydale looks like a town from the telly. I don’t know what I expected it to be like but not like this. Tidy. Quiet. 

I turn into the cemetery and come to a full stop in front of a tomb because...

Well because....

Because...

A tiny blond girl is stood on top and she’s, well, she’s _singing._

Like really belting it out. Just like Mary Poppins or something. Blue didn’t mention that she was a Disney princess. 

_”I've been making shows of trading blows_

_Just hoping no one knows”_

She impressively dispatches a couple of monsters. Fuck she’s powerful for a tiny tiny human. I join in before I think it properly through. She nods at me and signals left. I turn and twist the head off the Monster? Demon? Vampire? It bloody dissolves into gross dust and makes me cough into my sleeve. 

She grabs a sword (what I wouldn’t give for a tidy sword) and fucks up a demon and a vampire in one turn. It’s hellish elegant and fair play, she doesn’t miss a note. 

_“That I've been going through the motions_

_Walking through the part_

_Nothing seems to penetrate my heart.”_

We end up back to back fighting a couple of hooligans with messed up faces (nothing like a goblin) when I feel it rising in me. Like a sicky burp. It flows out into the air and the truth in the words clenches and twitches in me.

_”I was always brave and kind of righteous_

_Now I find I'm wavering.”_

She turns to face me stabbing the creature behind her 

_“Crawl out of your grave_

_You find this fight just doesn't mean a thing.”_

There’s a lot of _feelings_ here and definitely some not good magic. It’s particularly cruel to make me look like a prat _and_ make me face my trauma at the same fucking time. 

Then the bloody demons and vampires and undead things start doing some sort of dance number. Merlin, I’m dying from second hand embarrassment. 

Creatures of the dark going on like they work at Butlin’s. I can’t wait to tell Penny. Or. Maybe not. 

They do a cheesy twirl and then huddle up for some nice close harmony work, 

_“They do pretty well with fiends from hell_

_But lately, we can tell_

_That they’re just going through the motions_

_Faking it some how.”_

We kill them.

It’s barely even a fair fight with the two of us. It lacks excitement. Like stale birthday cake or Wednesdays. It’s just _flat._

I turn to her and sing ask

_”Will I stay this way forever?”_

I really mean it. It feels like broken glass and vinegar as it comes out. I need an answer. I need to know.

She looks like I feel. Hollow. Lost. Sad. When she sings her question is sounds so raw

_”Sleepwalk through my life's endeavor?”_

I’ve no more got an answer for her than she did for me. I’m most like me when I’m standing on a pile of corpses but surely there has to be more to me than this.

I boost her up on top of a crypt and climb up after her (the choreography is nice on this bit, very atmospheric.).

We face each other and belt out the closing phrases (as much as two depressed killers can belt anything out.).

_”I don't want to be_

_Going through the motions_

_Losing all my drive_

_I can't even see_

_If this is really me_

_And I just want to be.......”_

Some fucking idiot vampire with a death wish vaults up and lands between us. The twat earns himself a decapitation (me) and a stake (her). As the dust clears away we hold hands (in a mate way, like with Penny, not a sexy way) and sing over the tombs

_**“Alive!”** _

And I don’t know if that’s the truth but I know I don’t want to feel like this.


	2. If We're Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More singing

**Baz**

Well this is just absolutely perfect isn’t it? Not only are two of the greatest mages of their generation and the Chosen One reduced to grovelling for help. That would be enough. But I just _sang_ in the shower. 

Pitches do not sing in the shower. I doubt even the weakest Grimm sings in the shower (although I wouldn’t put it past them.) (Dev possibly does it on purpose). They certainly do not sing mournful songs about broken hearts. Even if they were to give in to such temptation they certainly wouldn’t use the shampoo bottle as a makeshift microphone like some shoddy talent show contestant. I have decided to ignore it as best I can. I will put it into the pile of things I am ignoring. Like whatever is going on with Simon. 

With Simon and the Slayer. 

Simon looks stunning enough to stop all thinking in his new uniform of white T-shirt, jeans and boots. His colour is back but he’s still not really _here_. He has rolled the cuffs of his jeans which gives me stupid unaccountable hope. It seems I am now pinning all of my future happiness on a sliver of probably accidental queer coding from the man I love. Sad, sad, sad. 

I have been forced into mall jeans (magic was required to get them to fit) (the look Simon gives me makes me think it might have been worth it). I managed to find a shirt which has far too many man made fibres in it but has the saving grace of a miniature sunflower print. Everything else about it makes my skin recoil in disgust. 

I feel a kind of nausea rolling in my stomach, a mounting desire to express my true sentiments about these clothes in song form. 

I do not. 

I am not an animal. 

I will not allow magic to make me look a tit. 

Again. 

Penelope has traded her skirt and knee socks for a delightful yellow sundress and I want to tell her how beautiful she looks but I do not want to _sing_ to her about how beautiful she looks so I refrain. 

Shepard looks like Shepard. He does not inspire song and I like him better for it. 

We do not look like an army for the force of good.

We do not look like Mages.

We look as lost and fucked as we are.

It's eerily quiet among us as we walk to the magic shop on Main Street. It seems rather gauche to base your evil fighting crew in a magic shop. But who am I to judge the methods of people who defend a hellmouth? I’m not sure I even want to know what a ‘hellmouth’ might be. I’m also fairly certain I don’t want to meet a vampire slayer. 

Simon assured me that she was fairly flexible when it came to the rules around slaying. It seems that well behaved vampires are not in her remit. I hope he’s right. It would be inconvenient to say the least if she felt she had to dispatch me after all.

As we turn the corner a bearded gentleman is leading an entire song and dance number about mustard in the middle of the road. It’s fairly pleasant if unusual. Simon grins at me and I want to sing to him about how that smile sends butterflies through me. 

I do not. 

I will not.

I just grin back instead. 

**Simon**

So far, so good. We’ve all managed to hold our songs in more or less this morning. I’m secretly hoping Baz will sing. I love to hear him. 

I’m also hoping Penny won’t sing. I think the situation is bad enough as it is. 

There are a lot of people in the back of the magic shop. A lot. Buffy does a quick round of introductions and I do the same with our lot. It’s clear we can’t really get down to dealing with NowNext until everyone stops singing. She tells me she called a good vampire she knows for info so we’ve done as much as we can for now. 

Buffy asks “So is it everyone? Are we all singing?”

A loud chorus of the mustard song filters in from outside. It’s definitely a yes. 

“We should probably try to work it out then right?” I say with no fucking idea how we would begin to work it out. 

But Penny has already plopped herself down next to Willow and grabbed a book. 

Willow turns to Penny and I’m sure she is going to say something but then the music starts and the worst happens. 

Penny and Willow sing. 

_“I've got a theory we should work this fast Because it clearly could get serious before it's passed”_

Baz visibly winces at the noise. 

I can’t take my eyes off them because it’s a car crash of a line. Like putting forks in a tumble dryer. 

Fortunately Buffy is a hero so she takes over (it’s bad enough that I would have done it if she hadn’t.)

_“I've got a theory_

_It doesn't matter..._

_What can't we face if we're together?_

_What's in this place that we can't weather?”_

She looks me right in the eye and I can feel the blush spreading over my cheeks. It’s too flippin’ weird and too _emotional_ but she’s not wrong. 

Before I can control my mouth the word is out

_“Apocalypse?”_

Baz looks at me slack jawed and horrified (I think he’s horrified, could be turned on, I still can’t tell all of his glares apart.)

She takes my hand and does this cute shrug thing as she answers 

_“We've all been there”_

I hold her hand tight, like I’ve known her forever and we sing to our friends, to each other, to the room;

_“The same old trips_

_Why should we care?”_

I give Baz a wink (more of a twitch really, my winking game is weak). Everyone looks warm and friendly and so bloody lovely as we all sing 

_“What can't we do if we get in it?_

_We'll work it through within a minute_

_We have to try_

_We'll pay the price_

_It's do or die”_

Buffy snorts a bit as she sings 

_“Hey, I've died twice.”_

I feel like it would be bad manners to mention my constant state of near death over the last few years and it doesn’t fit the rhyme scheme anyway

We go in for one last chorus because why not? Anything to hear Baz’s voice rumbling deep in me. I feel a bit hot and a bit shaky and I know it’s him. I want to grab him and kiss him but it doesn’t feel like this is the right number. Anyway. Back to now might as well finish strong.

_What can't we face if we're together?_

_What can't we face?_

_What's in this place we can't weather?_

_There's nothing we can't face._

I think we recovered well given the start. People are generally looking uncomfortable. Baz looks like he wishes the slayer would slay him. Until the old British guy offers us tea. 

“Oh, thank magic,” Penelope says at the same time as I say, “Tea?” and Baz says, “Crowley below, please let us have some.”

It will all feel a bit clearer after a cup of tea. Perhaps there might be biscuits too. 


	3. Under Your Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss?

**Simon**

Unfortunately the tea doesn’t solve the problem. The biscuits are all American tasting and too sweet. Giles gives me a look of sympathy. He gets it. 

There are a lot of books but the whole ‘looking through books to find solutions’ was never my wheelhouse at the best of times. Penny and Willow and Tara and Shepard have been non stop talking for hours. Buffy might be sleeping with her eyes open. Baz and Giles are engaged in a discussion about the Cornish rune rebellion of 1256 or something equally dull. 

I’m about to fidget again when the demon girl who’s name I can’t remember leans over Shepard and pulls at his sleeve. 

“What did you do?” She demands

Shepard looks shifty “Can we not?” 

Penny looks at him and I know that look. Boy is he in for it now. He looks as if he’s about to start arguing or defending himself or he might just be willing himself to disappear. Penny glares harder. The air goes out of him. Poor fucker. 

“Let’s go get lunch for everyone.” He says. That’s it. He’s conceded. He’ll tell her everything. It’s hard to imagine he has anything left to tell but it’s always the chatty open ones that have all the deep secrets.

The dark broody ones are just hiding crisps. 

Penny nods at him and ruffles my hair on the way past. I want to make a list of requests but I’m sure Penny will do me right. Surely nothing is interesting enough to distract her from feeding me. I can be very annoying when I’m hungry.

Willow and Tara make some excuse to go and get books or something but they are off to snog. I’m not thick. Everyone else seems oblivious. God these guys are in their own world. 

**Penny**

I am just about done with all of this stupidity. We came here for help and found more problems. It’s really discouraging that no one has their shit together. These guys are as bad, if not worse, than us and they have an active Chosen One. An actual mission. Not just some tangent they blundered into while on holiday. And they have a grown up on staff. We never had a grown up. Our grown ups were too busy to save the world. 

What I want to do is spend the afternoon quizzing Willow and Tara about their magic. Let’s face it, all I ever want to do is find out more about magic. Instead I’m lumbered with this idiot (not even my idiot) who is in enough trouble to worry a demon. 

We plonk ourselves on a bench in the park. 

I don’t let him get a word in “Right, what are you?”

He turns towards me “Penelope. I’m exactly what I look like. I’m a normal.” 

“And….”

“And I’m also slightly….a little bit….Cursed.”

I have to say that I was not expecting this. “By whom?”

“Demon, no one you’d know.” He pulls up his sleeve and shows the rest of the tattoo that set Anya off. It’s black and twisting. Runes and thorns. 

I would ask how but I know how. Blundering into places he should have been and bothering people he should have left alone. I shake my head. 

“We will fix you. Right after we finish all this.”

“I think this might be beyond magic.” he mumbles.

“ _ **Nothing**_ is beyond magic.” 

He gives me a wonky grin and points across the park. There are trails of magic bursting and flowing around Willow and Tara who are clearly engaged in a song that’s soon to become a snog. It’s a flagrant misuse of magic but nice. I think I might have lost the high ground on magic misuse over the last week. 

When I turn back to Shep it hits me all of a sudden. 

He’s got my hand.

Fuck a nine toed troll. 

_“ I saw a world enchanted_

_Spirits and charms in the air_

_I always took for granted_

_I was the only one there_

_But your power's shown_

_Brighter than any I've known.”_

Merlin and Methuselah. I should tell him to shut up. Or go and get Simon a burger. But I like it. I’ve never had a ludicrous public declaration of affection. Micah wasn’t a ‘feelings in public’ kind of bloke. Shepard doesn’t keep anything in. I think I might like that about him even though it irritates the living shit out of me. 

He drops to his knees in front of me and offers me flowers that seem to have _happened_. I’m smiling. I can’t stop smiling. 

He starts up again. 

_“I'm under your spell_

_Nothing I can do_

_You just took my soul with you_

_You worked your charms so well_

_Finally, I knew_

_Everything I dreamed was true_

_You make me believe!”_

His voice is lovely really. Warm and rich and deep. He’s looking at me with those irritating brown eyes. Like he means it. 

He sweeps me into a twirl and my magic starts popping and fizzing, sending up little trails of shiny stars. Absolutely gross. Totally soft. 

My chest is doing this weird thing and I can’t quite catch my breath (it’s not the dancing, I don’t think) 

It’s all warm and sunny and magic and and I feel

_“I'm under your spell_

_Surging like the sea_

_Wanting you so helplessly”_

I’m pressed up against him dancing and it’s good. So good. Where our bodies meet I’m tingling, itching, it’s exciting and silly. He runs a thumb down my cheek and I lean into like a dopey cat. 

Fuck it. 

It’s not every day you get a declaration in a musical number.

When I stand on tiptoes and kiss him, he’s already waiting. 


End file.
